


Recording Angel

by tagesknows



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen Possibly Scary, M/M, Post Apocothingy Drinking, a bit of angst, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 23:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagesknows/pseuds/tagesknows
Summary: Aziraphale reveals something that he didn't know about himself.  Heaven is not a friendly place. Dessert is a lovely thing.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Recording Angel

They sat in front of the fireplace, Aziraphale in the soft chair and Crowley on the floor between his legs, leaning back as his angel stroked his hair. They were too tired and comfortable to move, even to grab the last bottle of wine Crowley had brought. Aziraphale was at his favourite stage of inebriation, when he felt like a cloud floating between action and inaction, and no need to feel guilty about choosing one over the other. No need even to choose. 

Crowley pulled on his hand. "Want to sleep, angel?' he asked.

"What? No. I don't want to move one bit." He kept playing with Crowley's hair, however. 

"Don't stop." Crowley rubbed his head against Aziraphale's knee, insistent but affectionate. 

Aziraphale didn't. Crowley's hair became quite tousled. 

"Lovely demon. So loveable."

"Crumpet. Crumpet very much."

"A crumpet coated in lots of yummy jam?"

"Tons. Seven flavours. Seventy, even."

"It sounds like too many flavours."

"Not too many. Can't be enough jammy flavours. I'll help you eat it, if you like." He stirred but Aziraphale pulled him back against the chair.

"Now's not the right time for jam eating. I'm not up to it right now."

"All right then. Tell me a story. A scary story."

"I'm not sure I know any scary stories. Oh yes, I remember one. It starts: 'Once there was an angel named Gabriel--'"

"Ngnk. Not scary. That's more on the lines of a slasher film. Too predictable and too graphic and too disgusting. Didn't you ever hear about anything really scary?"

"I'm not sure what you think is really scary. I'll tell you something that a lot of humans seemed to think was scary. It's about a haunted Yew tree in Wales. And it's haunted by an angel."

"Is it by Swansea?"

"No, Conwy. In northern Wales. In a churchyard. It's supposed to be the oldest living creature in the United Kingdom, being over 3000 years old."

They both had a chuckle over that one.

"They say that every year on Halloween the tree is heard to call out the names of the parishioners who will die in the next year. For this reason the tree was avoided. One year a man named Sion ap Something, who doubted the existence of the voice of the tree, stayed overnight to hear whether the tree actually spoke or not. Sometime after midnight he heard a voice like a bell, a very deep voice, call out his own name. Within the year he died."

"Very scary. Was that you, angel, hiding in the churchyard to catch him out?"

"Crowley, do you think I only tell you these stories so I can secretly hint at my past activities? When was the last time I ever hid in order to trick some poor mortal?"

"Never. That I know of. Not that funny a trick."

"You asked for scary, not funny. Can scary things be funny at the same time? Oh, never mind. The human part of the story is too banal to be scary, but there is a scary part of the story the humans don't know. Did you ever hear rumours of an angel who went mad?"

"No," said Crowley, too intrigued to make a sarcastic remark. 

"No one in Heaven wanted to consider that such a thing could happen, so the madness only grew worse. The angel had a sort of...black...halo. It was like storm cloud but with light shining out of it."

"Did you ever see it?"

" I think I might have once, when I had to report in to Heaven for some reason. An angel wandered past me, talking to itself The words sounded like dark magic, involving binding rituals and names. When it had gone by I also heard a kind of rumble, like a cart on cobblestones, diminishing as it moved away from me."

"Were you scared?"

"I was disturbed. The names were the names of other angels. Later I heard another rumour that the angel had been taken to Earth and imprisoned inside a tree. And it still uttered the names of other angels. Not those of the parishioners. Though I suppose Heaven found that story useful for keeping the humans on the path of righteousness. "

"Sounds like something Heaven would think. The humans know they're going to die whether or not the tree calls out their names so why would that have any effect?"

"I don't know. Because it works sometimes? Like Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. A lot of them become frightened of the Afterlife when Death is brought to their attention."

"'Tevs. You're probably right."

"When I heard about the tree, I was scared of what Heaven might do to any angel that was out of line, or the least bit odd. I don't like to think of what other punishments they might come up with."

"Now that you mention it, that punishment would set a record for Heavenly originality. More like a Hell-y sort of punishment."

"What if it's not a punishment? What if some Heavenly being wanted to gain power over other angels by hiding the mad one on Earth and let it work out its spells away from their rivals? "

"So maybe Heaven would have a civil war or something? Have you ever been to the Yew tree?"

"Lord, no."

"Let's go. You know the Bentley--"

"Could get us there in a jiffy. No. I'm not going to the tree."

"Suit yourself."

"Crowley, don't go visit the tree!"

Crowley stood up. He had felt Aziraphale tremble as he spoke. "Angel," he said and sat back down, on Aziraphale's lap. "You're really scared. I thought you were just having me on." He leaned down so their foreheads touched. 

"No, it's a real tree."

Crowley kissed his cheek and his eyelid. He rubbed his shoulder blades. "What are you scared of, angel?"

"I'm scared it might say my name. That it's already said my name."

"You aren't going to die, darling."

"You just called me darling. Not marzipan or pasty, or, or--"

"Right. Could I call someone darling if they were going to die? You're safe."

"I must be more drunk than I thought. You just made the most nonsensical remark I think I have ever heard you make."

"Nobody's going to die, angel. Won't happen. I'm your guardian."

"I still don't want to go to the tree."

"And it's not even Halloween."

" That's a point. Maybe the tree is haunted by an evil spirit?"

"Could be." Crowley held him close while he still shook a little. 

"Please. Don't. Go," whispered Aziraphale.

"I won't."

"And please don't hate me for being a coward."

"Shut up. I'm going to hate you for calling yourself a coward, you great dumpling."

Aziraphale laughed shakily. "You're the dumpling. My darling dumpling."

"Pumpkin sauce. Great spicy pumpkin sauce."

Sent from Outlook


End file.
